What Resident Evil taught me about fear, failure, and queer resilience

When the infamous Chainsaw Man (I don’t actually know his real name, if he even has one) comes out in the opening hours of Resident Evil 4 Remake, I instantly sh*t my pants! I had just started the game, I hadn’t played the original in years.

I pull up to this eerie Spanish village where there’s what feels like a million infected villagers throwing axes at me and clawing at my face. I’m sweating, I’m running around the town square shooting my gun at anything that moves, effectively missing almost every shot. The sheer overwhelm of the number of enemies on screen chasing my ass down has me gorilla gripping my PS5 controller.

Then, as I hear the mechanical roar of the grinding metal from behind me, Chainsaw Man saws my head right off my body. “YOU ARE DEAD” flashes on the screen, dripping in bloody red.

I sigh and press continue.

This is what the survival horror experience is like to me. The anxiety and panic stem from the realization that your survival, or demise, rests entirely on your shoulders. The genre forces you to be mindful of your resources and work to maintain mental clarity in the presence of sheer horror. 

You’re managing your health while fighting your way through dimly lit hallways, cutting through the sound of screams coming from the most horrendous creatures known to man. It’s like a fight or fight-or-flight simulator for your nervous system and a training ground for making clear decisions under intense pressure. 

Why do I find this enjoyable you might ask? 

This is the question I was looking to answer here as a lifelong scaredy-cat. My generalized fear (composed of the fear of failure, rejection, death, you name it) has lived as a chronic, dull, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach for as long as I can remember. 

I once had a school nurse in college tell me I had the most “perpetually clenched ass” she’s ever seen as she injected a shot of penicillin into my right butt cheek. That made sense to me because I had my first panic attack when I was twelve. I thought that I was having a heart attack and had my uncle call the paramedics while I hyperventilated into a paper bag like a cartoon character.

At the time, I didn’t understand the way anxiety could physically manifest, and it became this invisible monster that could show its teeth at any moment from then on.

It makes sense why a series like Resident Evil wouldn’t sound appealing to someone like me, but after playing and beating RE 4 Remake, I think I understand why I keep coming back.

I believe that these games can subtly rewire your relationship with fear and failure.

Most titles in the Resident Evil series are known for their short length, designed to be replayed multiple times. Your first time playing is chaos. You’re scared shitless because you don’t know what’s coming. You enter a dark hallway, turn on your flashlight, hear something move, and in a fearful frenzy you start shooting.

You inspect more closely. It was a rat.

You wasted 5 rounds of precious ammo on a rat… and you missed.

It’s an ugly process at first but once you come in the second time around, you lock the fuck in. The gratification comes from learning from your previous experience, returning a bit more confident, perhaps with your dick out swinging. You know where all the good guns are. You know when this chainsaw guy is gonna show up. You know what doors to not open.

You are objectively way more prepared and develop this burning thirst for revenge. 

Dying is part of the process. Repeatedly getting the game over screen is indeed part of the process. Eventually, you stop fearing Chainsaw Man killing you because he’s done it so many times before. If you dumb it down, these games can actually function as a safe way to confront the feeling of fear. 

Exposure therapy, baby.

Despite my scaredy-cat DNA, I’m paradoxically a very outgoing person with a deep love for entertaining. I love meeting people, making music, dancing at the club, and performing in any capacity. It almost feels diabolical to be wired this way, with such an intense desire to be seen coupled with this equally intense fear of being perceived and potentially rejected.

Because of that tension, I often talk myself out of doing the very things I want to do — the same things that might actually help me become the person I want to be. 

This makes me think about the broader implications of what itch survival horror games subconsciously scratch for folks like me.

In a way, I think these survival horror games mirror the queer experience. 

I know that there are people that have had positive experiences with coming out,and that’s beautiful. But historically, many queer people have lived in something close to survival mode simply to exist as themselves. When you know there’s a strong prejudice surrounding your sexuality somewhere in the world, it’s easy to find yourself constantly second-guessing how you show up.

Not knowing if the things that you say or the interests you express could be met with warmth or hostility. It’s kinda like walking into a room in Resident Evil. There might be ammo and health waiting for you, or there might be five zombies ready to eat you for dinner. 

Either way, you’re vulnerable as hell.

I’ve learned through this whole personal investigation into the appeal of survival horror, that the feeling of overcoming fear is stronger than fear itself. 

Eventually it becomes almost addictive to face challenges, because you know that on the other side of that intolerable, agonizing dread is a more courageous, capable version of yourself.

I’ve decided to play through the entire series again so I can play the new game that just released, Resident Evil Requiem. I hear it’s the scariest the series has ever been, and yes… I am horrified, but I’m also excited. Another thing I was scared to do was to start streaming on twitch. So in a combined effort, I’ll be streaming my playthrough of the Resident Evil series on Twitch.

“Do it scared”

I think I saw that quote on Pinterest or something but that’s the perfect way I can describe both life and survival horror games. 

You lose some, but if you keep pressing continue, you eventually win some too.

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